Roy Exum
My friends know that I am a big fan of obituaries. While I have written many, I love reading about “the good side” of people, that they sang in the choir, loved the Mets, and lead Boy Scout troops. But there are also the “classics,” death notices that are literary works of art and there just appeared the announcement that ‘Popeye” Charping had died of cancer in Galveston, Texas.
As you will see, whoever wrote Popeye’s goodbye didn’t care for him, not even a little bit, and the fact they didn’t hold a funeral nor a wake tells us the family was pretty serious on erasing his memory poste haste. Seriously, this is the truth! How would you like it if this were submitted to the Galveston Daily News on your behalf?
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‘EVIL DOES, IN FACT, DIE’
Leslie Ray 'Popeye' Charping was born in Galveston on November 20, 1942 and passed away January 30, 2017, which was 29 years longer than expected and much longer than he deserved. Leslie battled with cancer in his later years and lost his battle, ultimately due to being the horse’s a** he was known for.
He leaves behind 2 relieved children; a son Leslie Roy Charping and daughter, Shiela Smith along with six grandchildren and countless other victims including an ex-wife, relatives, friends, neighbors, doctors, nurses and random strangers.
At a young age, Leslie quickly became a model example of bad parenting combined with mental illness and a complete commitment to drinking, drugs, womanizing and being generally offensive. Leslie enlisted to serve in the Navy, but not so much in a brave and patriotic way but more as part of a plea deal to escape sentencing on criminal charges.
While enlisted, Leslie was the Navy boxing champion and went on to sufficiently embarrass his family and country by spending the remainder of his service in the Balboa Mental Health Hospital receiving much needed mental healthcare services.
Leslie was surprisingly intelligent, however he lacked ambition and motivation to do anything more than being reckless, wasteful, squandering the family savings and fantasizing about get rich quick schemes. Leslie's hobbies included being abusive to his family, expediting trips to heaven for the beloved family pets and fishing, which he was less skilled with than the previously mentioned.
Leslie's life served no other obvious purpose, he did not contribute to society or serve his community and he possessed no redeeming qualities besides quick witted sarcasm which was amusing during his sober days.
With Leslie's passing he will be missed only for what he never did; being a loving husband, father and good friend. No services will be held, there will be no prayers for eternal peace and no apologizes to the family he tortured. Leslie's remains will be cremated and kept in the barn until 'Ray,' the family donkey's wood shavings run out.
Leslie's passing proves that evil does in fact die and hopefully marks a time of healing and safety for all."
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AN OLD CURMUGEON’S FAIRY TALE
Once upon a time, a Prince asked a beautiful Princess, "Will you marry me?"
The Princess said, "No!!!" And the Prince lived happily ever after. He rode motorcycles and had intimate moments with skinny, long-legged, big breasted women, and hunted and fished and raced cars. He went to strip bars and dated women half his age and drank whisky, beer and Captain Morgan’s and never heard nagging. He never paid child support or alimony and kept his house and golf clubs throughout his life and ate Spam and chips and beans.
He could ‘break wind’ whenever he wanted and with no complaint. He was never cheated on by a mail man while he was at work and all his friends and family thought he was cool. He had tons of money in the bank and left the toilet seat up. And He lived happily ever-after!
(from the Internet)
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NEVER TAP A CABBIE ON THE SHOULDER
Last Wednesday a passenger in a taxi heading for Salford station leaned over to ask the driver a question and gently tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. The driver screamed, lost control of the cab, nearly hit a bus, drove up over the curb and stopped just inches from a large plate-glass window.
For a few moments everything was silent in the cab. Then, the shaking driver said, "Are you OK? I'm so sorry, but you scared the daylights out of me."
The badly shaken passenger apologized to the driver and said, "I didn't realize that a mere tap on the shoulder would startle someone so badly."
The driver replied, "No, no, I'm the one who is sorry, it's entirely my fault. Today is my very first day driving a cab. I've been driving a hearse for 25 years!"
(from the Internet)
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A MEMORABLE TRIP TO THE TACO HUT
$5.37 -- that's what the kid behind the counter at the Taco Hut said to me. I dug into my pocket and pulled out some lint and two dimes and something that used to be a Jolly Rancher.
Having already handed the kid a five-spot, I started to head back out to the truck to grab some change when the kid with the Elmo hairdo said the hardest thing anyone has ever said to me. He said, "It's OK. I'll just give you the senior citizen discount."
I turned to see who he was talking to and then heard the sound of change hitting the counter in front of me. "Only $4.68" he said cheerfully.
I stood there stupefied. I am 56, not even 60 yet! A mere child! Senior citizen? I took my burrito and walked out to the truck wondering what was wrong with Elmo. Was he blind? As I sat in the truck, my blood began to boil. Old? Me?
I'll show him, I thought. I opened the door and headed back inside. I strode to the counter, and there he was waiting with a smile. Before I could say a word, he held up something and jingled it in front of me, like I could be that easily distracted! What am I now? A toddler? “Dude! Can't get too far without your car keys, eh?"
I stared with utter disdain at the keys. I began to rationalize in my mind. “Leaving keys behind hardly makes a man elderly! It could happen to anyone!"
I turned and headed back to the truck. I slipped the key into the ignition, but it wouldn't turn. What now? I checked my keys and tried another. Still nothing. That's when I noticed the purple beads hanging from my rear view mirror. I had no purple beads hanging from my rear view mirror.
Then, a few other objects came into focus: The car seat in the back seat. Happy Meal toys spread all over the floorboard. A partially eaten dough nut on the dashboard. Faster than you can say ginkgo biloba, I flew out of the alien vehicle.
Moments later I was speeding out of the parking lot, relieved to finally be leaving this nightmarish stop in my life. That is when I felt it, deep in the bowels of my stomach: hunger! My stomach growled and churned, and I reached to grab my burrito, only it was nowhere to be found.
I swung the truck around, gathered my courage, and strode back into the restaurant one final time. There Elmo stood, draped in youth and black nail polish. All I could think was, "What is the world coming to?"
All I could say was, "Did I leave my food and drink in here?"
At this point I was ready to ask a Boy Scout to help me back to my vehicle, and then go straight home and apply for Social Security benefits. Elmo had no clue. I walked back out to the truck, and suddenly a young lad came up and tugged on my jeans to get my attention. He was holding up a drink and a bag. His mother explained, "I think you left this in my truck by mistake."
I took the food and drink from the little boy and sheepishly apologized. She offered these kind words: “It's OK. My grandfather does stuff like this all the time."
All of this is to explain how I got a ticket doing 85 in a 40 mph zone. Yessss, I was racing some punk kid in a Toyota Prius. And no, I told the officer, I'm not too old to be driving this fast.
As I walked in the front door, my wife met me halfway down the hall. I handed her a bag of cold food and a $300 speeding ticket. I promptly sat in my rocking chair and covered up my legs with a blankey.
The good news was that I had successfully found my way home.
Save the earth...... It's the only planet with chocolate!
(from the Internet)
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A SAD OBITUARY FROM MINNESOTA
Please join me in remembering a great icon of the entertainment community. The Pillsbury Doughboy died yesterday of a yeast infection and trauma complications from repeated pokes in the belly. He was 71.
Doughboy was buried in a lightly greased coffin. Dozens of celebrities turned out to pay their respects, including Mrs. Butterworth, Hungry Jack, the California Raisins, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies, and Captain Crunch. The grave site was piled high with flours.
Aunt Jemima delivered the eulogy and lovingly described Doughboy as a man who never knew how much he was kneaded. Born and bread in Minnesota, Doughboy rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filed with turnovers. He was not considered a very smart cookie, wasting much of his dough on half-baked schemes.
Despite being a little flaky at times, he still was a crusty old man, and was considered a positive roll model for millions. Doughboy is survived by his wife Play Dough, three children: John Dough, Jane Dough and Dosey Dough, plus they had one in the oven. He is also survived by his elderly father, Pop Tart.
The funeral was held at 3:50 for about 20 minutes. If you smiled while reading this, please rise to the occasion and pass it on to someone having a crumby day or kneading a lift.
(from the Internet)
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Let’s laugh more often. Hurray for the Saturday funnies.
royexum@aol.com